


sit/stay/speak

by sakuraba



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Drabble, Light BDSM, M/M, Pet Play, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 18:59:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19215544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakuraba/pseuds/sakuraba
Summary: Riku just thinks Iori needs to relax.





	sit/stay/speak

**Author's Note:**

> found this mess while sorting my i7 writing doc... sorry tails if this looks gay to the viewers
> 
> (takes place some time circa part 4; i subscribe firmly to natural age progression with regards to canon events, so iori's about 19-20 and riku's 20-21.)

“Good puppy!”

The look Iori casts up at him is far past unimpressed, lands somewhere much closer to  _impervious,_  but something about that deadpan undercut by a black leather collar gets Riku’s blood pumping all the same. He tugs on the leash just enough to send Iori’s chin tilting back, eyes bright; his lashes brush soft against his cheek. He grins even as Iori’s thighs shift discontentedly under him.

“Nanase-san.” The leash loops easily around Riku’s palm, and Iori’s eyes follow it as though guided by a doctor’s penlight, dark and dilated. “I know I agreed to the… collar and leash aspect of this whole ordeal, but…”

“But?” he echoes sweetly. Similarly sweet is the friction as he rocks in Iori’s lap, feels the hard, blunt shape of his cock straining against his underwear.

Iori coughs. If Riku’s not mistaken, there’s a near-imperceptible bloom of pink staining the highest part of his cheeks. “The ears.”

“What about them!”

He grimaces. “They’re a little… much, aren’t they?” His wrists are bound up by his headboard, all adorned in black silk-rope, but his hands are free and close enough to fuss with the tip of one fluffy ear. “Where did you even…”

Riku hums jovially, drops all his weight onto Iori’s hips just to revels in the choked noise that blossoms in his throat. When leans forward to press their foreheads together, Iori’s skin is unbearably warm. “My secret,” he sing-songs. “Nowhere my sweet little ultimate college student boyfriend should be going, hmm? Besides, I thought it would help you get into character.”

“…you did.” It’s not a question.

“I did!” He kisses Iori’s nose, his cheek, a hot trail down to his ear. “Because Iori isn’t used to being the one out of control.”

“Nanase-san,” Iori says. The protest shudders on a hitched breath. “I don't need-–”

“Shh.” He pulls back just enough to tug the leash, brings Iori nose-to-nose. “Good dogs don’t talk.”


End file.
